After The End
by Hazy Cricket
Summary: (Also posted on FictionPress.net accidentally) An offspring FF; Ron, Hermione, Draco all marry, have children...deal with events of the past...
1. The Boy Who didn't Live

Chapter One - The Boy Who didn't Live  
  
The rain was falling heavy, and the atmosphere was tense. Thick darkness was engulfing the vast forest.  
  
"Lumos," whispered Harry, lighting the tip of his wand confidently. Ron trailed behind him, followed by a flustered Hermione.   
  
"Harry, are you sure about this?" she questioned nervously. "I mean, something might happen-"  
  
"Trying to scare us into heading back, 'Mione?" Ron hissed. "It's not like this is a prank... Sirius needs us!"  
  
Harry, however, despite his confident tone, was worried. He stopped abruptly on a twig, snapping it loudly. Ron jumped. "Hermione," Harry inquired, "why're you so nervous?"  
  
"Don't you think it's a bit odd that he asked us to meet him on the outskirts of Hogsmeade? Rather than in the old cave, or in the Dark Forest, even?"  
  
"No," Ron snorted loudly, rolling his eyes. Due to the lack of light, Hermione didn't notice. "Come *on* Harry, let's get going."  
  
Harry, suddenly torn between Ron and Hermione, blinked rapidly. What is someone really was pulling his leg?   
  
"Right," he turned on his heel, following Ron and shrugging off all doubt. Hermione reluctantly followed as well.   
  
The group approached the edge of Hogsmeade at a fast pace. The air seemed to be thinning, because Harry was having a harder time breathing. Ron kept pushing him, however.  
  
"Let's *go*!" he whined, stretching out the second word enthusiastically. Hermione scoffed in silent disapproval.   
  
Harry stopped slowly, spinning and glancing around. "Snuffles?" he called out, holding his lighted wand about his head. From behind, the trio heard a rustling of leaves; a large, black dog emerged at a trot. In reflex, Harry jerked himself around and pointed his wand directly at it. A relieved sigh escaped his throat. "Oh, Snuffles..." Harry laughed, lowering his wand. The dog, however, didn't cease to run. Ron and Hermione, who had been standing on either side of him, dodged quickly away and out of reach. Harry froze, a dumbfounded expression screwed onto his face as the dog tackled him to the ground forcefully.   
  
"Harry!" the other two cried, Ron jumping up in vain attempt to tear the dog from Harry. The mutt snapped at Ron's wrist, causing him to recoil his hand.   
  
"Mother fucking..." Ron cussed under his breath, slipping his wand out from underneath his cloak. With his unharmed hand, he aimed the tip directly at the spine of the black dog.  
  
"Ron! Don't do it!" Hermione shrieked, in a shrilly voice.   
  
"Avada Kedavra!" Ron had obviously ignored Hermione, because a green, blinding light shot out from the tip of Ron's wand. The pressure caused Ron to lose his balance, staggering backwards and falling flat on his ass. Hermione, still positioned on the ground, lifted her arm to shield her eyes.  
  
The light dimmed out, and Hermione lowered her arm. Her gaze fell upon the limp body of the black dog and a respirated grunt emerged from her throat. "Argh... I told you two!" she snapped, particularly at Ron. She stood, stoming over to him. "You almost got Harry killed!"  
  
Ron didn't seem to be listening, however. His eyes were wide, focusing on something else. Hermione continued to scold him, approaching closer. "Honestly, when will you two learn that my instincts are always on the right tr-" She stopped, as Ron lowered his head into his hands. Hermione knelt down, suddenly feeling guilty. "Come now, Ron. I didn't mean it..." His shoulders shook, and a small whimper came from beneath his hands. "I'm sor-"  
  
"It's not that!" Ron cried, in a slight moan.   
  
"Then what is it?"  
  
Without saying a word, Ron crawled over to Harry's wand, which had been tossed aside during the commotion. The tip had stayed lit. Ron raised it, to strech the concentration of light.   
  
Hermione gasped out of shock, scrambling to stand. Ron hadn't been crying because of what Hermione had said to him; he was crying because of what he'd done to Harry.   
  
The seventh year Gryffindor was sprawled out on the dewy, midnight grass, eyes shut slightly under round glasses and frame. His head had fallen to the right, his chin leaning on the appropriate shoulder. Palms were facing downward, pressed lightly against the ground, and his legs seemed to be uncomfortably positioned. Harry's hair was distraught and ruffled; though none of this seemed to bother him, or Hermione for that matter. Harry, along with the rotten black dog, had been hit with the Killing Curse.  
  
Hermione ran at top speed over to him, sliding beside him and ruining her stockings. "Harry!" she cried, shaking her best friend vigerously, as though it would wake him up. She scooped up his body, holding it close to her. She hadn't noticed that Harry's scar had begun to bleed, and didn't care. Harry was gone. 'The Boy Who Lived' was no more.  
  
Ron solomnly, and shakily ventured over, obviously deep in regret. Hermione's tears slid down her reddening cheeks. Her gaze peirced Ron's eyes.  
  
"This is all your fault!" she accused, openly expressing her enmity towards Ron. She took one last look at the love of her life, her boyfriend since the fifth year, kissing him gently on the cheek. "Never," she snarled, looking Ron up and down in pure disgust, "ever speak to me again."  
  
Hermione lifted herself off her knees, laying Harry's body on the ground softly, and ran off towards Hogsmeade. Leaving her ex-best friend, and deceased beaux in the open area.   
  
Beyond, father away and hidden in the trees was the darkest lord of his time. Voldemort stood, observing, and cackling to his snake cruelly. "Well, Nagini, Mr. Weasley certainly accompished my intentions rather well," he snarled, obviously amused. "Without even knowing my intentions!"   
  
Nagini hissed in agreement, and approval, turning into the forest and heading deeper. Her master followed, with a cold, echoing laugh that sent a shiver down the spine of the scared, redheaded murderer. 


	2. Decades Beyond

(Author's note: Yes, I'm new to this site, and with help from a certain person, I've come to understand this more. I didn't include a disclaimer in the first chapter, simply because I didn't know I was supposed to. So here it comes...   
  
I do not own the characters or places in this fiction; all are property of JK Rowling, author of the Harry Potter Series. All I own is the plot.  
  
Also, for reference to any of you who came from FictionPress.net, you're in the right place. *Blush*)  
  
(Also note that most of this chapter had been written, that's why this update is coming so soon. I'm forewarning you all, that they will not be coming this cluttered anymore. I definately don't have enough muse in one night for that... ^.^)  
Chapter Two- Decades Beyond  
  
"Lancome!" his mother called from the bottom of the stairway. "Lancome Granger-Krum! Get yourself out of bed this instant!" Hermione trudged up the stairs in a motherly fashion, out of the love for her son. "The train leaves in approximately two and a half hours!"  
  
Lancome snorted, tossing the pillow from over his head. "Mooother..." he whined, turning onto his back and off of his stomach. "...Let me alone for another thrity minutes! Two hours is *plenty.*"   
  
Hermione appeared in the doorway of his room, leaning against the wood frame. She had changed much since she'd graduated Hogwarts. Her figure hadn't always been one to talk about, until the later years, but she'd shaped up rather nicely. Curves were carved into perfect position, and the dips and valleys seemed to make her a unintentional seductress. Her hair had been straitened professionally once a week, giving off a rare shine that one wouldn't find to go with the coloring of it. Her eyes remained plain and simple; But who ever said that was a bad thing? "Now. Or you don't get to go at all!" she threatened playfully, smirking at Lancome. This caused Lancome to spring out of bed in sudden hurry.   
  
He had a muscular build, similar to that of his father. Broad shoulders, and a sexy square chin had kept him up on the social status back at his old school. There was no doubt in his mind that it would be any different here at Hogwarts; and even if it was, Lan was always up for a challenge. Stray strands of his hair fell just above his shoulders, his haircut seeming to be a subdivision of a mullet. It was of auburn color, obviously inherited from Hermione, though much easier to tame. He would slick it back, similar to the war Draco would have in his earlier years at Hogwarts, before allowing it so settle on it's own during sixth year. Lancome's eyes didn't seem to come from anywhere in the family gene pool. His piercing green eyes gave a stir in his peers, a mysterious deepness was held in them.   
  
"I'm up, Mum," he announced, as though she couldn't have observed for herself. He grinned boyishly.  
  
"Good," she replied. "Get your stuff together. Your father'll drive us in an hour. We don't want to be late for the first year, do we?" She winked, and strode out.   
  
"Hogwarts, here I come..." he thought to himself. As Lancome gathered a bunch of last minute possessions, his throughts trailed off to Drumstrang, and his first four years there. Some would think it odd for a fifteen year old to be transferring to another wizarding school. The specific reasons for the move hadn't been disclosed to him, but rumor had it that the dispute between his father and current headmaster at Drumstrang Fresco Mandela had turned 'sour and physical,' so to speak. Which would explain the fat lip Viktor had returned home with a few months ago.  
  
Lancome returned to reality, stuffing an extra pair of socks into his duffle and continuing to pack.  
  
***  
  
Bailey, at ten' o' clock, was out of her already made bed. Glancing down in the mirror, at her feet, she pondered her biggest concern at the moment.   
  
"Ugh... What shoes!" she muttered, mainly to herself, turning to face her closet. She wondered what color would match her current outfit.  
  
"The blue might work, sweetie," Ron suggested, a warm smile placed on his lips. Ron's appearance had changed drastically since he'd last seen his alumni as well. His eyes no longer seemed dull, but reflected light and the image of the person they were set on. As though it was a mirror, you could see yourself while gazing into his eyes. Unfortunately, Ron's hair had stayed the same since Hogwarts; a red 'afro' atop his head, still overpopulated by freckles galore. He'd grown a whole lot, and had Harry still been alive, Ron would be about a head taller. His legs had strengthened up, no longer looking gawky and thin. His smile was, as always, to die for.  
  
"Blue?! Daddy..." she laughed sympathetically, bending down and picking up a pair of black, open-toed sandals. "These'll do," she nodded decisively, buckling them up quickly. "Red and blue don't work well with my skin tone."   
  
Bailey Weasley had inherited the famous Weasley traits; for her phenotype was expressed similar to her Aunt Virginia's. She had a fiery mop of banana curls, and paled skin. Scattered freckles tickled her nose, and her eyes were a brownish flecked with yellow. She wasn't very tall, more on the short side, and always seemed to try to make herself look older with tons of makeup. However, most people wouldn't be able pull that amount off; Bailey managed to look beautiful. Her breasts were smaller, though seemed to work well with her size.  
  
"Whatever you say, pumpkin."  
  
She sighed, letting her hands drop to her sides. "Ready to go?"  
  
"Of course." Ron picked up his daughter's luggage, and leads her out of her bedroom. "Ready for your fifth year at Hogwarts?"  
  
"Naturally," she replied, shutting the door behind her.  
  
***  
  
Lacola was downstairs, in the kitchen, eating breakfast at ten thirty. Her breakfast was warm, orange juice cold, and silverware lined the table. Her hair was tucked neatly into a ponytail, and her gaze was focused on her father.  
  
"Daddy," she said, in an angelic tone, "when will we be off to the station?" She arced a slender brow.  
  
"As soon as you finish your breakfast," he replied, his hands folded atop the redwood table.   
  
"I'm not hungry," she stated, poking at her bacon with her fork aimlessly.  
  
"Just eat a little, then. Please?" Draco jerked his head at her plate, pushing it closer to her. And to no one's surprise, Draco had had little change in his looks since school. His hair had stayed a platinum blonde; as he got older, the gel and hairspray had worn off, allowing Draco to just wear his hair au naturel. His attractive features remained, as he was still a slightly short male. If he had been a bit shorter, or taller, his body would be out of proportion. His eyes still icy, though he didn't use it to his advantage much anymore. Draco had turned soft, for reasons he would never tell anyone except the one they concerned. His chest had bulked out, something he could say he'd worked for. Those countless hours at the gym weren't for nothing, mind you.  
  
"Fine," she grunted, upset that she'd lost another battle with her father, and shoved a piece of bacon into her mouth. She chewed it loudly, making her point, until Draco finally stood.  
  
"Alright. We'll go now."   
  
'Cola stood gleefully, picking up her barely touched plate and placing it in the sink. Her features were flaunted in the particular outfit she had chosen to sport on the trainride. A jean skirt that seemed to show as much skin as possible showed off her legs; long, skinny, and perfectly toned. Her waist had no love handles, though she was *sure* that strip of bacon that she'd shoved down her throat would go strait to reserve for them. Her chest was developed, though her stomach remained flat. Her arms were muscular, though not at all masculine. Draco had given her every positive trait he'd posessed. Her hair shimmered an even whiter blonde than his, and her eyes an even brighter blue.   
  
"Thank you, daddy dearest," she nuzzled his shoulder playfully, and skipped out of the room. Draco shook his head, laughing.   
  
"Mandy," he called to his wife. "Let's go!" 


	3. Reunited Pasts

Chapter Three- Reunited Pasts  
  
A silver, muggle Mercedes pulled up at the station, music pumping loudly. The passenger's door opened, and Lacola Malfoy stepped out breezily. She lifted her sunglasses momentarily, unshielding her eyes, and scanned the area.   
  
"No one," she thought to herself, repositioning them on her nose. She politely closed the door to her father's car, and linked arms with her mother.   
  
"Cola," Mandy, her mother, started, "are you going to be alright? Are you sure you don't want us to head in with you?"  
  
Lacola thought about this for a while, glancing from one of her parents to the other. What was the harm, anyway, in letting them escort her to the platform? She couldn't find any reason that would get her out of it. Instead, she smiled childishly.   
  
"Of course I'll be alright. But I wouldn't mind you walking me in." The grins on both of their faces made her warm inside. She loved to make them happy, because after all, they did it all the time for her. She was spoiled, but not in a preppy way. She had respect, and unlike others of her economical status, only showed it modestly.   
  
Draco walked around to the back of the muggle car, imported from Germany. "I'll get your bags, then," he nodded, opening the trunk and sliding out three large trunks. Lacola hadn't realized that she'd added an extra trunk this year. Most of the time, her luggage only consisted of two trunks. She also couldn't figure out what she'd packed all three with.   
  
He placed them on a trolly, following behind the two girls happily. Lacola and Mandy both turned around. "Draco, hunny, why don't you walk up here with 'Cola and me?"   
  
"I'm fine where I am, thanks."  
  
"Daddy, don't be a whiner!" Lacola laughed, and slowed down lightly for her father to catch up.  
  
Draco blinked, and smirked. "I told you I was fine. Really, I am." He as well slowed down, making a game of this. Mandy frowned lightly, and Draco sped up to pace with them. The frown disappeared, and the three travelled towards the Platform.  
  
As they approached, they ran into the Weasleys.  
  
"Bailey!" Lacola shrieked happily, dropping her mother's arm and skidding into her back. Bailey hadn't expected the crash so soon, and toppled over. Lacola landed on top of her, and the two erupted into a girlish fit of giggles.  
  
"Hey 'Cola, girl," she answered, more casually. Ron laughed along with them.   
  
"Draco, Mandy," he greeted the two, standing next to his own wife, Katie Bell, former chaser for Gryffindor. They'd pushed their friendship to a higher level at a quidditch orientation a few months after Ron had graduated from Hogwarts.   
  
"Ron, how're you?" Draco questioned, actually happy to see him. "And Katie," he cooed, embracing her in a friendly way. Ron mimicked the action with Mandy.  
  
"Pulling through, yourself?"  
  
"Not too shabby. How's work?" Draco was referring to Ron's job as an Auror. Ron's face lit up, at the mention of his title that he held so proudly.  
  
"Fabulous. And the Ministry work? How's that coming along?" Indeed, Draco worked for the Ministry. Particularly in the position formally held by Bartemius Crouch.   
  
"Great." Draco smiled at Ron, remembering when they'd become friends. He didn't know he'd pulled it off, however it was late in their seventh year.   
  
Draco had befriended Hermione during their fifth year, only to be shot down by her. She'd fallen for Harry, the one person who seemed to beat Draco at everything. Late in the seventh year, after a tragedy that still remained a mystery to him, Harry'd been killed. Draco had always suspected Voldemort, with his father's assistance. Draco had swooped in, taking advantage of this opportunity. He'd seen Hermione as a vulnerable, scared, and torn woman who needed comforting. Though Hermione saw right through him, and lectured for a full twenty minutes on how he should be ashamed of himself. Draco subconciously rolled his eyes at this thought; for he had tried everything in the last three years at Hogwarts to win over Hermione. He'd turned soft, kind, and caring, which Draco had always meant to thank her for. He seemed to view life a different way now, as though there were more important things to worry about than sex kittens, and playmates. His father had frowned upon this, though his mother secretly loved him more than ever for it. She wasn't as cold as she seemed, and Draco missed her dearly. His father, on the other hand... Well, let's not go there just yet. Ron had been listening that day, during the lecture, and had boosted Draco's ego. Their friendship evolved from there, and the two had kept in contact. After Ron's marriage to Katie, however the two only spoke on special occasions. Finally, the two only spoke to each other once a year, at the station, while dropping off their kids.  
  
Bailey stood finally, her laughter dying down a little. She held a hand out to Lacola. "Need help?"  
  
Lacola grabbed her hand, pulling herself up. "Thanks." Her eyes shifted to the large clock right above their head. "We should really get going. The train leaves in fifteen minutes." She had still been holding on to Bailey's hand, and dragged her at a slow trot through the platform. Both sets of parents followed.   
  
***  
  
The two girls had barely gotten through the barrier before Lacola jutted her hand out. "Oh, my lord, Bailey..." she grinned widely, stopping in place and glancing in front.   
  
"What is it?" Bailey asked, but didn't need to wait for an answer. Both of their gazes had fallen on a strong, husky male, who seemed to be either their age, or a year older. "Ohhh," she laughed lightly, knowing that Lacola was the more boy-crazy one.   
  
"He's *georgeous!*" she whined, bending her knees in enthusiasm. "Don't you agree? You've got to agree. You *know* you agree."  
  
Bailey shrugged. "He's alright..." Though in all honesty, she thought he was more than just alright. Anyone with hormones would agree.   
  
Ron and Draco emerged from the barrier, followed by Amanda and Katie chattering away. Draco's gaze followed that of his daughters, falling on the boy. He nudged Ron, clearing his throat loudly. That snapped both teenagers out of their swooning stares.  
  
"Come on, you two," Ron ushered then further towards the train, gazing at the boy as well. He laughed heartedly, until a young woman stepped up beside him. Both Ron and Draco heard her voice, and would have recognized her anywhere.   
  
As though from an old, western movie, Draco's eyes began at the heels of her shoes. Colored a deep, deep burgundy, the pointed toe of the boot reminded him of a Charlie's Angels accessory. Her ankles seemed moisturized, silky and smooth even at the distance. Her calves were shaped like that of a soccer player, as were her thighs. The tight blue jeans didn't hesitate to bring out the sexy appeal of her lower body. Which included her backside; it gave off the impression of Puerto Rican heritage, if one can make an inference.   
  
Ron, too, seemed to notice this, as his eyes moved slowly up her body hungrily. Her hips were marvelously shaped, and not at all hidden by the low-rise pants. Her shirt began at the tip of her belly-button, with ruffled edges. Matching the color of her shoes, the style was that of a peasant shirt. Her chest was exaggerated by the cut of the top, which was a V-cut, and the shape of her collarbone by the zigzagged charm-necklace that hung off her neck. Her face hadn't changed much, as noted before, though her hair had been twirled into a bun. Both noticed a drastic change in the attraction she held herself with.   
  
Draco stood, gaping silently and almost unable to catch himself. "She looks unbelievable," he thought, shaking his head in disbelief. Mandy didn't seem to notice her husband gawking at an old crush, nor did Katie. Ron nudged Draco.  
  
"What's wrong?" he croaked, pretending not to have noticed. He had to, in his defense, for the last time Ron had looked at her in any sort of way other than a glare had been the night of Harry's death. He couldn't face her, he was just too ashamed. These feelings had been pushed aside for the twenty-somewhat years that they'd been out of contact. Ron wondered why Hermione was suddenly showing up at the Hogwarts Express with a son. Surely the boy hadn't been attending Hogwarts all these years.   
  
As if on cue, Viktor stepped up beside Hermione, shattering all thoughts Ron was having. "Naturally, they sent him to Drumstrang," Ron said aloud, knowing Draco had been wondering the same thing; which he had.  
  
"Gosh," Draco whispered to Ron, his eyes darting nervously over to his *still* chatting wife. He began to walk over, stunned, though managed to keep a casual stride. Ron, however, grabbed at his arm.   
  
"Where're you going!" he hissed through his teeth, snarling underneath his sentence.  
  
"Over to her..." Draco moved his hand rolling forward, to show Ron what a retarded question that is. Ron let go, allowing Draco to proceed. He took a spot leaning on a column closeby, observing.   
  
Krum had moved away to talk with Lancome about his first trainride to Hogwarts, leaving Hermione standing alone. She stuffed her hands into her back pocket aimlessly, biting her lip and stomping her foot to make it seem as though she was doing something. That was, until a gentle touch landed upon her shoulder.  
  
"No chance in hell that you're the Hermione I'd known back in school," a deep voice complimented her, and she spun around to see who it could be. She gasped silently, her eyes widening.   
  
Hermione noticed Draco's change for the better, too. He'd grown up to be a *very* nice looking man, and she stammered in surprise. "Draco M-Malfoy?" She stated it as a question, though knew damn well who it was. She was breathless, her throat dry, and suddenly she found herself throwing her arms around him. She blinked, pulling away from him. "I'm sorry, I'm just so flipping surprised I don't-"  
  
"Don't worry about it," he smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder. "How've you been? It's sure been a heck of a long time, no?"  
  
Hermione nodded. It had been long, and as she calculated, it was longer than she'd expected. "Twenty three years," she announced proudly.   
  
Draco grinned. "Well, then, we've got a lot of catching up to do, don't we?" 


	4. Chapter Four No title yet

(A.N: Okay, I'm not sure if this will work. I upoladed this chapter once, and all that came out was some weird computer language.  
  
Also, please R&R! I like to know what's good, and what's bad... I'm 'for the people by the people.' *Is random and doesn't make sense, as well..* O_O)  
  
Disclaimer: All rights reserved to the owners, publishers, and JKR. None to me. *Dramatic sigh*  
  
Chapter Four-   
  
'Well, then, we've got a lot of catching up to do, don't we?'  
  
Hermione gawked at Draco's steel grey eyes, observing that they hadn't lost their sharp ability to break one's gaze. Her mouth opened to say something, but the two were interrupted by Viktor.   
  
"Hermione," he approached, eyeing Draco cautiously. Draco noted the fact that he'd finally understood the concept of pronouncing her name correctly, and found it rather hard to stifle a laugh. The unsuccessful result ended in a hoarse cough. "Hermione, it's time to set Lancome on the train."  
  
Draco snapped into his senses, and allowed his hand to drop. "Right. I've got to see my own daughter off. Hermione, I'll catch you later on, alright?" He winked subtly, scurriying off towards his daughter. Leaving Hermione flustered and dazed. Draco'd just hit on her, had he not? A married, father of at least one child, hit on Hermione; who in turn seemed to have a family of her own?  
  
***  
  
Slender fingers on a sturdy hand waved out the window of the train excitedly as it pulled away from the station. Both Bailey and Lacola were anxious to be on their way, out of the watchful eyes of their hawk-like parents. Bailey finally pulled her hand out of the window, and flopped down on one of the cushioned seats. She followed Lacola's active gaze perspectively.   
  
"Who're you looking for, you little whore?" Bailey snickered, as Lacola's gaze flickered at her for a moment.  
  
"Who do you think?" she rolled her eyes, shifting and craning her neck to see around the rows of seats. She stopped momentarily, huffing. "And I'm not a whore." Bailey widened her eyes, as though this was news to her.  
  
"I doubt he's even around," Bailey continued, wringing her hands pointlessly. Lacola gave her a 'Shut-up-if-you-know-what's-good-for-you' kind of look, before settling down in her chair. She pressed her back to the backrest in frustration.   
  
"He's *got* to be around," she whined, k'fetching to Bailey; as though she could do much about it. "I mean, he's coming to Hogwarts, no doubt, right?" Bailey blinked. "Right," 'Cola answered her own question.  
  
Lacola's sudden gasp caught in her throat, and her eyes widened to match Bailey's as the boy stepped into their solitary compartment. Shaking an odd expression off of her face, Lacola smoothed out the top of her skirt gently and awaited arrival of her sweet, sweet prince.  
  
"Er..." a set of baffled eyes darted silently to the two girls seated, who had suddenly gone quiet and were staring directly at them. Lancome quirked a bushy brow at them, setting Bailey off into a fit of uncontrollable snickers. Lacola kicked her hard, ceasing them abruptly. "...Hi?" he stated it as a question, clearing his throat and seating himself towards the corner of the boxcar.  
  
Lacola flipped her hair seductively, Bailey mimicking the option to the point of major exagguration. "Hey."  
  
Bailey cleared her throat, a smug expression toying on her visage; as if to say 'that's all you can manage?' She decided to make this a bit easier on her friend's part. "Come sit over here, why're you secluding yourself? We don't bite..."  
  
Lancome ran a hand over the back of his neck nervously, staggering onto his feet and inching closer; at a very slow, unsteady race. He took a seat next to Bailey, facing Lacola. A cough emerged from his larynx. "Erghm...Lancome." He jutted his hand outward towards 'Cola, one eyebrow still raised.  
  
"I'm Lacola." She attempted to flash a weak smile. "Malfoy," she added, for flavour. Lancome turned to Bailey.  
  
"Bailey Weasley," she shrugged.   
  
Lancome noted the simple introduction, nodding. "Nice to meet you both," he replied, politely. Both girls nodded in agreement.  
  
"Pleasure."  
  
***  
  
"What're you doing?!" Ron scolded Draco, eyeing him nervously as they headed away from the travelling train. "You're completely wrong and headed for a shitload of trouble..."  
  
Draco shrugged him off, holding himself proudly as he continued past Ron once more and headed towards a stranded, solomn Hermione. "What's it to you, Weasley?" Draco had seemed to catch a tad bit of his old personality, though Ron knew not to take it personally by now. "It's not like I'm screwing her..." His famous school smirk came into view. A long pause followed the statement, and Ron almost let out a sigh of relief. Draco cut him off. "...Yet..."   
  
He left Ron once more and ventured towards Hermione. She almost seemed confused to see him, but Draco sensed she wanted him to come over. You know, that whole 'I-was-born-a-Malfoy-so-I-can-read-people' shindig...  
  
"So, Viktor," he began with, the tone cooing into her ear. "When, if you don't mind me asking?"  
  
Hermione snorted girlishly. "Take a guess," she retorted, playing it almost as though she could care less for him. Which, in fact, she could. But damn, was he wearing her down...  
  
But Draco didn't want to play Hermione's little mind games. "Hm, most likely before your son was born... What'd you say his name was?"  
  
"I didn't," she replied honestly, cocking her head to the side momentarily. "But his name is Lancome."  
  
"Very interesting," he lied.  
  
"Mhmmm," she clicked her tongue, allowing her eyes to fall on others and avoid Draco's seductive gaze. She couldn't, however, for long...  
  
"Hermione, I'm going to be strait out with you. I miss your company." Draco blinked. "Well, not that I ever *had* your company, but I would love to meet up with you one day. For old time's sake."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes, before falling into his gaze, sensing the sincerity. The honesty, the way he's changed... "I...I'd like that as well, Draco."  
  
The devil inside Draco did a slight victory dance. Maybe he hadn't changed as much as he thought he had. He slipped a hand inside his pocket. "Perfect," he purred, allowing the word to roll off his tongue. "I'll give you a call, say, tomorrow?"   
  
"Alright."  
  
Draco nodded, turning away with an expression like no other atop his face. But Hermione was calling his . He put all his weight into spinning around once more, swiping the sneer rapidly off his face.  
  
"Draco... You need my number."  
  
He blinked, dumbfoundedly. "Of course. Let's have it, then."  
  
Hermione let out a small giggle, and began to scribble her number down on a scrap paper. "Talk to you tomorrow, Draco." She walked away, towards Viktor, who was wearing a jealous expression. Ron rushed over almost immediately, cutting Draco off in his path.  
  
"Wha's that? Wha's that she gave to you?" he asked excitedly, though trying to make in unnoticable. "Did she give you her number?"  
  
Draco shoved the little piece into the pocket of his pants, giving a mysterious shrug and returning to his wife and Katie. 


End file.
